


The talk

by kouw



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, birds and bees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouw/pseuds/kouw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While giving one of the new maids the customary 'talk', Elsie reminisces.<br/>Written for the 'first kiss' prompt, issued by The Servants' Hall</p>
            </blockquote>





	The talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'first kiss' prompt, issued by The Servants' Hall.
> 
> Prompts are hard, yall.

She checked the clock while she tidied up her parlour. Ledgers in the drawer of her little desk, letters from tradesmen in the designated corner. There was a knock, followed by Daisy coming in, filling the teapot and setting down the treats. “Good luck, Mrs Hughes.” She said with a bit of a smile.

Daisy had matured a great deal over the past few years. The responsibility of running the kitchen whenever Mrs Patmore wasn’t around and the prospect of going to the farm when the time is right had made the bumbling girl blossom into a more confident young woman. She vividly recalled giving Daisy ‘the talk’ - originally something Mrs Patmore ought to do, but they had found early on Beryl did not have the tact and sensitivity - the girl had blushed fiercely, had uttered that she could not believe people wanted to do that.

“Thank you, Daisy. You can send in Emily now.”

She braced herself. No matter how often she spoke about these things, it never got any easier. For a brief moment she wondered if Charles gave his boys the same kind of talk. She knew everything there was to know about this man - his habits, his preferences, his dedication. The way his muscles flexed under her hands when they roamed the vast expanse of his chest. His sense of humor. His kindness.

She shook her head. This was not the time to get distracted by the thought of Charles’ rumbling voice and how he knew his way around a corset or the way he made her laugh. She was not ten minutes away from telling a fifteen year old girl there was to be no courting, that make up was not allowed and that curfew on (half) days off was ten o’clock.

Ten o’clock was when she shooed the junior staff out of the Servants’ Hall, while she waited for Charles in his pantry for their customary glass of wine, or failing that, a cup of tea. Sometimes they had cheese and crackers for a treat, or leftover dessert. He would take off his coat, loosen his tie. Sometimes she would push her chair next to his, take off her shoes if it had been a long day. His scent would wash over her - a mix of his cologne, the exertions of the day, mint. He smelled of home and she would put her hand over his as it laid on the armrest of his chair and they would share a smile and speak of their days, so easily, so casually.

She remembered the first time he had asked her to join him in his rooms and she had felt almost honoured. He had never asked her predecessor to join him for a glass of wine and a chat. He had gone through great lengths to ensure she felt comfortable and safe. Truth was that she felt more than comfortable around him, which had made her nervous.

Emily’s knock woke her from her little daydream.

“You sent for me, Mrs Hughes?”

“Yes, I did. Have a seat.”

When the girl was settled with a cup of tea and a biscuit, Elsie started her usual inquiries. If someone else had already imparted their wisdom with Emily, there was no need for her to do the same. Then the few basic house rules would be enough. After a few rounds of ‘how are you finding the job’ and ‘are the others treating you nicely’ she broached the subject by telling the girl where to find ‘supplies’ she might need but might be uncomfortable asking about and how to go about her laundry and keeping herself clean.

Like Daisy, Emily blushed something awful and not for the first time Elsie thought it was strange that something that was so natural and part of about half the population’s biology caused such embarrassment and shame. She steered

“I am sure you are already aware of most of the house rules by now. That we want you back in the house by ten on your half day and that we do not allow our girls to wear make up on the job. Do not forget that you are not allowed to have a ‘boyfriend’ or callers in general for that matter.”

“Yes, Mrs Hughes. I mean, no, Mrs Hughes... I mean...” The girl flustered. “But... I... Don’t think I quite understand...”

“What don’t you understand?” She tried to sound calm and kind, this was always such cause for discussion. These rules were for their protection - she did not want to be confronted with another case like Ethel’s. In practice they had always turned a blind eye if a maid started walking out with someone from the village. She and Charles would check up on the boy and his prospects and tried keeping their eye on what happened between the young people.

“I did see Mr Bates and Anna kiss in the courtyard when I went for a bit for fresh air yesterday.”

“They are married, Emily.” She pointed out the obvious. “Surely you understand that’s different.”

She sipped her tea, watching the girl intently.

“But... if they are allowed to kiss... I mean... It’s not really fair, is it?”

“The rules are different when you’re married, that’s only right. I’m sure you agree.” She gave Emily a stern look.

“But Mrs Hughes? It’s only a kiss, right? No real trouble could come of it...”

Elsie paused. She didn’t agree with Emily, she thought that a lot could come from a kiss and most of it trouble. She vividly remembered the first time she had been kissed. Joe had pressed his lips against her cheek when he had walked her home one evening. She had felt so different all of a sudden, but it was nothing compared to the kiss she first shared with Charles.

They had finally given in to the attraction they had both felt for so long. He had been outside, she didn’t remember what he was doing there - probably fetching coal - and she had gone to fetch him, since Lord Grantham had rung for him. When the door closed behind them, they had been enveloped by the dim light and he had bumped into her, which made her turn on the spot. He had been so close and she had reacted on impulse by putting her hand on his chest, just over his lapel.

He had lowered his face and touched her lips lightly with his at first, but more purposely when she had not turned away. She had felt as if electricity crackled around them when his arms had slid around her waist and hers around his neck, pulling the other closer. He had gently touched her bottom lip with his tongue and she had granted him access and before she knew it, he had her pressed against the wall, their tongues dancing and duelling. It had felt so good. His lips had wandered slightly, kissed her cheek, her jawline, while she fumbled to get under his shirt. She had wanted to feel him even closer, to check that this was real, that she was not living a particularly vivid dream.

She could feel his desire for her rising pushing against her hip as the kiss went on and she had felt herself moistening the soft skin high up between her thighs. Everything her mother had taught her, what every housekeeper she had ever worked for had told her went out the window as he sucked on her bottom lip and she had let her head fall back against the wall for him to kiss the side of her neck. She had allowed him to push up her skirts, bunch them up around her waist and it was only when the bell rang again in the Servants’ Hall they had come to their senses.

She scraped her throat before answering.

“Just... don’t put it to the test, Emily. Promise me.”

“Yes, Mrs Hughes.” While the words came easily enough, Elsie didn’t much like the look on the young girl’s face. Still, she understood her better than she could let on.

After Emily left, Elsie drained her cup and went in search of Charles.

She found him in the courtyard.

“What are you doing out here, Mr Carson?” She asked, always on her guard, always expecting one of the junior staff to be in the vicinity.

“Just stepped out for some air. Been cooped up inside all day.” He sounded tired.

“Come... lets go inside.” She put her hand on his arm, the fabric of his coat as familiar to her as the feeling of his skin against hers, letting it slide down until their hands were touching.

He opened the door and let her pass She waited for him to join her again, when he did, she grabbed hold of his lapels, pulling his face to hers, kissing him intently. He reacted with enthusiasm, circled her waist with his arms, held her close. Their mouths pushed and pulled, tongues curling against each other. His scent was in her nose, his skin under her hands and like so many years ago, she let him push up her skirt, thankful there weren’t as many layers as there once were, grateful she was wearing the old fashioned knickers he loved so much.

They kept on kissing, their hands kept searching for nakedness, fingers undoing buttons with practised ease, the faint smell of arousal in the air. Her need for him was burning between her thighs.

“Gods... Charles...” She mumbled, moaned almost. “I’ve just told... Emily... about the dangers... of kissing...”

For a while she was unable think of what those dangers were she had mentioned earlier. Just like she had forgotten all about the world around her that first time, long ago.

Until they heard the sound of a bell drift in from the Servants’ Hall.


End file.
